


Don't you know I'll be there for you, always, always

by secretsinmysoul



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom!Bucky, Commandos era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Rimming, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, War time, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsinmysoul/pseuds/secretsinmysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's always looked after Steve, he's been pulling him out of fights since they were kids. Now they're off the school-yard and in the middle of a battle field, and Bucky's finding it harder and harder to cope with the reckless, brave behaviour of the man he loves. Cue sulky, protective Bucky and eventual tent sex. I'm not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't you know I'll be there for you, always, always

Before the war, before the serum, Bucky always had Steve’s back.

He’d break up fights in alleyways, bars, restaurants; any place Steve managed to get his nose into trouble. Bucky would intercept the blows of whichever oaf Steve had managed to get into a scuffle with (the other guy always at least double Steve’s size), kick him to the curb and help Steve home.

When they were young, Bucky would always clean Steve up right after he was done intervening with the fight. He’d wipe the blood from Steve’s split lip, massage his bruises and take him home to his Ma (who worried about Stevie even more than Bucky did, if that was even possible). Then, he’d help Steve explain the numerous injuries to her when they arrived at the door.

As they got older, Steve became more to Bucky than his best friend who he’d help out of a jam. As soon as Bucky learned what it was to want, what it was to love, he knew that was what he felt for Steve. Then he was told who he was supposed to want, who he was supposed to love, and it got a bit more complicated.

None of that stopped Bucky from feeling what he did, though. It didn’t stop Steve either. When they were teenagers, Bucky still had Steve’s six but the way he helped out just changed. Bucky started to wipe the blood from Steve’s mouth with tender kisses, had to carry him home to their apartment where he could heal every bruise and scrape with kisses and a washcloth.

Steve would always run his fingers through Bucky’s hair as he did so, as if trying to gently massage away his worry. Steve would say things like, “Buck, I’m fine. It’s only a few bruises, you gotta stop saving me.”

Bucky would protest, “Never, I’ll never stop. You gotta stop; I hate seeing you hurt, punk.”

Steve would feel so guilty afterwards; he knew how much Bucky loved him because he loved Bucky the same way. He knew that when Bucky saw him in pain, he felt every punch that Steve had received, and he felt them twice over. When Bucky sat by his bedside as Steve coughed long and haggardly into the cold winter nights, Steve knew that Bucky felt twice the ache in his lungs, twice the scratching in his throat that he did.

Bucky loved Steve, and that meant that they shared their pains and aches. It just happened that Steve was more accomplished at getting himself into trouble than Bucky was.

At least until Bucky and his entire division were taken hostage by Hydra.

When Steve rescued Bucky – their roles reversed for the first time – Steve finally felt it. He saw Bucky on that table, imagined what must have happened and felt his whole body ache with worry and shake with anger. Steve imagined the torture Bucky must have endured and felt a pain tantamount to that torture burning deep in his soul.

When they had finally found themselves alone, in Steve’s tent, Steve had proceeded to push Bucky down, firmly, onto his cot.

“Woah, Stevie, don’t use all your strength at once pal.” Bucky had protested, sitting up.

“Sorry,” Steve blushed, he’d forgotten about his new body. He sat down next to Bucky before continuing, “I just couldn’t stand seeing you hurt today, when you were in the medical tent and all those doctors were looking at your injuries I just wanted to push ‘em off you. I wanted to tell them I’d look after you, that you were mine to look after.”

“I’m fine Stevie, really. You don’t gotta look after me, I’m a big boy.” Bucky grinned in that all too familiar way Steve loved and that made him feel the near loss burning in his heart again.

“That sounds familiar, Buck.”

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah I guess it does. Guess we’re both stuck, then.”

“Stuck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, “I’d tell you to stop worrying but I know you won’t because I’ll never stop worrying about you. Even now you’re built like a brick house, I’ll still always be damn scared of someone trying to knock you down.”

Steve smiled, “I guess that’s love, right Buck?”

“Yeah, Stevie, that’s love.” Bucky said as he pressed a firm, loving kiss to Steve’s mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss sooner than Steve would have liked.

“I guess you _are_ still my Stevie; you kiss the same as he did, taste the same as he did.”

“I’ll always be yours, you jerk.”

Steve used his strength to pin Bucky down again. He kissed him much less chastely than before, his tongue licking around Bucky’s mouth, stopping to suck Bucky’s tongue in a needing, eager way.

Steve didn’t want Bucky to move, to exert himself, so he straddled Bucky; pinning him still with his thighs. Then, he proceeded to kiss Bucky tenderly on every bruise, every needle mark left by Hydra. It was what they did after all, when one of them got hurt, a sign of love and protection. This was Steve’s first time as the protector and he had to get it right. He left no inch of Bucky’s skin un-kissed; he even planted one on each eyelid as they started to flutter shut, heavy from tiredness. In the spirit of first times, Steve held Bucky in his arms that night – he was finally big enough to entangle Bucky in his limbs and keep him warm for once.

The roles quickly righted themselves after that night, though. They’d barely had two nights in camp when they were shipped off to take down Hydra bases, one by one.

The Howling Commandos – that’s what they called themselves. Sometimes Bucky felt like they were just a bunch of kids on the schoolyard, playing it tough and taking names. But war wasn’t a playground.

Bucky learned that at the first hydra base, when Steve left his back uncovered and almost got himself shot. Thank God Bucky was up high, watching Steve like a hawk. He put two bullets in the guy about to shoot Steve, because dammit even Captain America can’t survive a bullet to the brain.

Bucky felt relieved to have kept him safe but frustrated as hell that Steve had managed to drag himself into the war zone. At home he would’ve been safe. In battle Steve was in constant danger; his flagrant disregard for his own safety caused him to make reckless decisions (albeit in the best interests of others, but still). It had been that way back in Brooklyn but it hadn’t mattered as much; Bucky knew he would always get to Steve in time to save him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

When Steve runs into a burning building on the second mission (to rescue the members of their team still trapped inside) Bucky almost loses his mind. He’s waiting with Morita and DumDum outside, and all he can do is watch the building burn. Bucky has a steady stream of swears falling from his mouth because it’s all he can think to do. He’s fallen to his knees, tired of fighting the others as they’d held him back from running in after Steve. Of course, because he seems to have more luck than sense, Steve emerges carrying the two missing members of their team on his shoulders. Bucky has never been so happy to see Steve in all his life.

But by the third mission, when Steve jumps in front of a bullet to protect Morita and leaves himself catastrophically vulnerable, Bucky’s had enough.

Steve is of course fine; his body heals and the bullet doesn’t hit any vital organs. It was still a stupid as shit move though. He might be a super soldier, or whatever, but Bucky is pretty sure a bullet to the heart or lung or - god forbid - the head could still kill him.

That’s how Bucky finds himself stuck in the middle of his very own super sulking session at camp that night. Stubborn as always, and more pissed off with Steve than he’s ever remembered being, Bucky had refused to say a word during dinner. They’d all sat around the camp fire eating their stale bread and beans, the guys joking and laughing – happy after a successful mission. Bucky made a point not to join in, never even cracked a smile. Steve kept glancing at him, those blue puppy-dog eyes full of worry. Good. Bucky wanted him to suffer a bit.

He knew that, eventually, Steve would break him. Bucky could never stay in a sulk too long; Steve was just too damn good at working him out of one. So, when Bucky and Steve took the first watch that night, as always, they settled down to play cards and Steve settled down to cheer Bucky up. They’d only been playing for a few minutes when Steve remarked that Bucky had been unusually quiet all night. Steve was worried, is all, he thought Bucky looked to be in pain, like he was struggling to hold something in and it was hurting him to do so. Steve kept pushing the issue.

“Bucky, what’s eating ya? Please tell me, it feels so wrong when you’re being the quiet one of the two of us.” Steve practically begs.

“You’re an idiot, Rogers. That’s what’s goddamn eating me.” Bucky snarls.

“Yeah, what else is new?”

“I told you before,” Bucky snaps, “war isn’t a back alley, Steve. Men die out here easy enough without throwing ‘emselves in front of bullets or runnin’ into burning buildings. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”

“It’s my job, Buck, what do you want me to do?”

Steve bristled.

“Your job?” Bucky’s voice is raised now, “It’s your fucking job? Really? Because I bet the Colonel would be really fucking pleased if you died raiding a Hydra base, job really well done Stevie.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll wake the others.”

“I don’t care about the others, I care about you. And that’s my fucking problem isn’t it? It’s been my goddamn problem since we were kids.”

They’re silent for a moment, then Bucky’s voice softens as he whispers, “You gotta stop this, Stevie. Here, in the middle of this godforsaken place, I can’t take care of you when you get hurt. I can’t bandage you up and…and…kiss everything better ‘cos it ain’t allowed and it kills me. It kills me that all I can do is watch and--”

Steve takes Bucky by surprise and grabs him by the shirt, pulling him in to a firm, hungry kiss.

“Who says you can’t kiss it better?” Steve asks, as he pulls away and releases his hold on Bucky’s crumpled shirt. Steve’s eyes pierce through the darkness and Bucky can see that all too familiar hint of lust growing behind them.

“Steve, it’s too risky you know that.” Bucky hisses.

At that exact moment, they are relieved of their watch. Bucky tries to act natural as they thank the others and walk to their tent. He prays to God – for the first time in quite a while – that no one except him and Steve can feel the thick fog of sexual tension growing around them.

Steve pounces on him as soon as they’re alone. Bucky turns the tables and pushes Steve down, lying on top of him before he presses their mouths together once more.

 Bucky lets go of his worries because Steve is here in his arms. Bucky can hear his heartbeat, hear the blood flowing through his veins. He can feel Steve’s skin start to heat up as he grinds his hips against Steve’s. It reminds Bucky: they’re alive, safe (for now) and together. He feels intoxicated on this moment. It’s sweeter than any whiskey he’s ever tasted.

Bucky rubs Steve’s hardening cock through his trousers. Steve groans and arches his hips, pressing himself more firmly into Bucky’s hand.

 Bucky goes to undo Steve’s trousers when he protests, “We can’t do this here, Buck” Steve’s breathing is already quickening, “we’ll be heard, I’ll be too loud. We can’t do this here in the middle of the war.”

“Yes we can. I _need_ to, I _need_ you, Stevie. Don’t you see? I have to have as much of you as often as I can because you’re so goddamn stupid and reckless that I don’t know if tomorrow will be the day I lose you. I need you tonight because you make me so goddamn worried about every tomorrow. I need to feel you inside of me, remind me that you’re here, that we’re here together, at least for now.”

And how can Steve say no to that? He exhales and whispers, “Yeah, okay, Buck. But quietly.”

Bucky grins as he gets his way. He unbuttons Steve’s army regulation trousers, pulls them down around his ankles, gaining access to his cock – so hard it looks swollen and already leaking precum. Bucky licks his lips before he takes Steve in his mouth. He can’t make too much noise, so Bucky shows his enthusiasm by licking Steve extra messily; the blow job is sloppy and eager. Bucky swallows every inch of Steve, which requires him to muffle a moan of pleasure.

Bucky pulls away and grins. Steve is not amused.

He uses his new strength to grab Bucky and turn him over. Steve doesn’t have any lubricant, so he has to do the best he can with spit and some vaseline. Steve takes his time, trailing kisses along Bucky’s spine. As he reaches Bucky’s hole, he tongues at the entrance. It’s filthy and wet and Bucky is about to lose his mind.

“Please, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, “I need you inside me, please hurry.”

Steve obliges, and pushes a finger inside of Bucky, up to his knuckle. He curves his finger in the direction he’s come to learn that Bucky loves and now it’s Bucky’s turn to bite his lip to stop from screaming Steve’s name.

The revenge feels sweet, so Steve slips another finger in. Bucky exhales, and hisses, “Yes, Stevie. That’s so good, please, I’m ready, please give me your cock.”

Steve almost blows his load right there and then. Bucky’s always had no problem using his dirty mouth to express all his deepest, filthiest desires. It drives Steve mad (in the best way).

In the spirit of positive reinforcement, Steve wraps a hand around his own dick to spread the precum down his length, and then pushes his slick cock into Bucky – slowly, at first, nudging inside – but then he’s filling Bucky up and he’s so warm and tight Steve takes a moment to enjoy the feel of Bucky around him.

Then Bucky moans, as quietly as he can, and begs Steve, “Move, baby, please move.”

His voice is almost a whimper, and it’s possibly the sexiest thing Steve’s ever heard. So he moves, slowly, rotating his hips in a smooth circle. He rubs Bucky’s neglected cock to the same pace, a similar rhythm. Bucky is biting his sleeping bag now, trying to stifle his shouts of pleasure.

It’s not long until he’s coming, coming all over Steve’s hand, and that warmth is enough to push Steve over the edge; he empties himself inside of Bucky, his whole body shaking with the full force of an orgasm.

Steve pulls away, and cleans them up with a washcloth. Bucky interrupts pulls Steve into his arms (he’s always going to be the big spoon no matter how gigantic Steve gets).

“You gonna take better care of yourself now, Rogers? Or else I won’t let you fuck me like that ever again.”

Steve laughs, “Well then I guess I better watch myself out there.”

“You’re damn right.” Bucky mumbles.

Steve falls asleep safe in his lover’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> A random one shot I finally got round to finishing. No real plot, just an excuse for protective Bucky and some porn. Feedback would still be really appreciated though (still kinda new at this). Thanks for reading.


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